


Bangkok Days

by Velvelicious



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bangkok Nightlife, Coming of Age, Exploring the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope, Internalized Homophobia, Johnny travels to Thailand, M/M, My skin is like honey, References to Depression, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Slow Burn, backpacking AU, nO yoU HaVe To TaSTe iT
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-22 23:23:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velvelicious/pseuds/Velvelicious
Summary: After finishing college, Johnny feels lost.Struggling to find his purpose in life, and feeling suffocated by his parents' expectations, he sets out on a backpacking tour across Southeast Asia. However, after many months of backpacking, he feels a lingering sense of loneliness. He is no closer to discovering himself than he was at the beginning of the tour.This is when he makes a spontaneous decision to visit Bangkok - the sprawling Thai metropolis. He has no return ticket, no friends waiting for him back home, no deadline to meet. This is where he meets Ten.Somewhere between bar-hopping from one drag bar to another, somewhere between Bangkok's slithering water canals and dingy back-alleys, Johnny begins to find self-acceptance.And maybe, just maybe, something more. Something that will make returning home feel almost impossible.





	Bangkok Days

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot believe I am finally posting this! I started writing this story while I was in Bangkok, feeling quite similarly to the way Johnny feels in this story. I was struggling with depression and with figuring out what exactly I want to do with my life. The only way I knew how to deal with my emotions was through writing: thus, this story came to be. I genuinely hope all of you enjoy it! I also hope it provides you comfort or a sense of camaraderie if you have ever felt the same way Johnny has. If at least one person reads this story and finds a sense of understanding with Johnny (with the relief that accompanies this feeling of not being alone) I would be the happiest author.

Johnny blearily opened his eyes and was greeted by the soft morning sun lazily rising above the tropical forest. He ran out of water approximately three hours ago. His mouth was dry and tasted like scattered debris. His eyes were crusty, and he sleepily rubbed them, in a half-hearted attempt to jolt himself awake. After eight hours spent in the overnight minibus, his neck and joints felt stiff, and he desperately wanted to get out of the cramped vehicle and stretch. The air conditioning had been on full blast the entire night, and was blowing straight into Johnny, for he was sitting in the first row. He reckoned the temperature was around eighteen degrees celsius which, in his humble opinion, was simply inhumane. He sandwiched his icy cold hands between his thighs in a futile attempt to warm them. 

He left Siem Reap at eleven in the evening yesterday night and, besides waking up once, when they were crossing the border from Cambodia to Thailand and he had to present his passport, he had spent the entire ride sleeping. Thus, this was his first opportunity to take in the scenery; the dark green palm trees shading the road, the sprawling local villages with their colourful tuk-tuks, the open markets where women were selling freshly hatched eggs, the young kids rushing to school in their uniforms. He could even see chickens running around freely -- a sight he could have never imagined back home in Chicago. Soon, or, at least he hoped so, because his throat was feeling quite parched, he would be in Bangkok: the sprawling Thai metropolis. The other backpackers he met on the road, they all told him to not bother coming here. It was too loud and too busy and too smelly, they had all said. You’d be better off going to Chiang Mai or Pai in the North, or maybe to the Phi Phi islands in the South. And, if you were interested in ladyboys, they would wink, Patong Beach in Phuket is the best place to go. There is nothing for you but bad traffic in Bangkok, they all agreed. Johnny thanked them for their advice before promptly choosing to completely ignore them. What did they know? Besides, he couldn’t explain it, and it made little sense, but there was something drawing him to Bangkok: he  _ had  _ to go. And, since this was the first time in  _ weeks _ he felt drawn to  _ anything _ , he had to follow this urge. Recently, he had been feeling so listless and so aimless, it felt liberating to actually have somewhat of a purpose. Bangkok. 

_ Bangkok.  _

It felt as if the city held the key to all of his hopes -- all of his dreams and fears. Will Bangkok be finally the city where he discovers himself? Where he finally solves the mystery of this oppressive, almost gooey and murky, feeling in his chest? The one that made him move across half the world? He desperately hoped that somewhere in Bangkok, somewhere along Bangkok’s dingy alleyways and slithering canals, he would rediscover  _ Johnny Seo _ . The Johnny Seo from two years ago: the one who was always confident, always popular, always so sure of himself. The Johnny Seo that his parents adored, the one they wouldn’t stop gushing about to their family friends -- not the one he currently was, not this faint shelf of a human being. He didn’t know  _ why  _ Bangkok: there was absolutely no rational explanation behind this spontaneous choice. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision: one that happened at three in the morning, in his twelve-bed mixed dormitory in Siem Reap, as he was trying to battle his insomnia. He had been feeling so uncomfortable in his own skin that he almost wanted to scratch it out and, wanting to distract himself into oblivion, he put on some random Youtube videos. After almost five videos, ones he barely remembers now, he stumbled upon a twelve minute long travel vlog in Bangkok. 

He booked his tickets to Bangkok the second he was done watching the video. 

And now, he was finally here, looking for something hidden from himself. The minibus was beginning to enter the city and Johnny curiously watched as the countryside melted into buildings and roads stacked on top of each other. They arrived in Bangkok during peak hour, as everyone was scrambling to get to work, so the bus took a long time meandering through the streets before finally reaching its destination. When they finally arrived, Johnny was the first one to rush out and greet the simmering asphalt and the humid morning air. He shuffled to the trunk and grabbed his backpacking bag. He hoisted it over his shoulders, slightly grunting from the weight, before opening up Google Maps on his phone. According to the map, the hostel was a forty-five minute drive away with the BTS, which was the name of the local mass transit system. Johnny hated this part of travelling: the one where he had just reached a new country and had to figure all the logistics out, like changing money or buying ticket cards for the public transport system. It exhausted him, like a lot of travelling aspects did, though he supposed the good parts were worth it. 

He boarded the BTS train with no problem, but was unable to find a seat inside, which was okay with him as he had spent the last eight hours seated. He idly opened his phone in order to pass the time, and started reading the latest book on his Kindle shelf: “Naked” by David Sedaris. 

Phrom Phong. Thong Lo. Ekkamai. Phra Khanong. On Nut. Bang Chak. Punnawithi. 

The stops kept zooming by, and more and more people fettered out, but Johnny remained standing until he reached his stop: Udom Suk. This neighbourhood will be his home for the unforeseeable future, he thought as he tapped out the BTS station. For now, he had booked only seven days at the hostel, but he had no plans for afterwards -- no tickets, no bookings, no friends to meet -- so there was a big possibility to remain here as long as he needed. He intended to stay as long as it was necessary in order to find the thing he came looking for. The neighbourhood was nice. There was a small supermarket, where he bought water and finally quenched his thirst, as well as a street bustling with open food stalls. He ordered take-out pad thai for fifty baht, then headed back to the shabby hostel where he flopped on his bunk bed. 

_ Okay _ , he thought,  _ now what _ ? He reached Bangkok, that was the easy part, but how was he supposed to go about confronting that suffocating feeling in his body? In his rush to get here, he had not even read anything more about Bangkok, and what there is to do here, beyond that travel vlog. Maybe a good start, a good next step, would be to make a list of all the things he wants to do during his stay. Fulfilling that list would also give him a purpose, which was good, for the one thing Johnny feared the most were aimless days, as that is when he had a lot of time to  _ think _ . He opened up Google and searched “things to do in bangkok”. Suddenly, a million articles showed up, each headline somehow tackier than the previous one. They almost seemed to yell out at him from the screen; the titles ranging from “THE 10 BEST Things to Do in Bangkok” to “28 Unique and WEIRD Things to Do in Bangkok Every First Timer MUST Try”. Johnny closed the search bar, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer enthusiasm and exuberance. A lot of things overwhelmed him these days. If he was being completely honest, he did not feel particularly strongly about exploring the local landmarks. Just thinking about going to all of those temples and museums and floating markets, about being surrounded with so many other tourists, exhausted him. 

This, in turn, made him feel guilty. He knew other people would kill to be in his position. He had no obligations -- his only responsibility being to have a good time -- and he was able to explore new and exciting cultures every single day. He also felt guilty because he was spending his parents’ money, when he should be looking for a job instead, and on top of that he was not even enjoying himself. Why was he feeling so listless? How could he be so indifferent faced with such splendor and beauty? He felt ungrateful and unfairly privileged, and kind of hated himself for it. Sometimes he wondered whether he made a mistake, coming to Southeast Asia, but the thought of being back home was somehow even worse. 

Feeling restless, he decided to just go to one of the more famous malls in Bangkok, Siam Paragon, where he could find a Starbucks, and maybe do some writing. Johnny studied economics in university, but his real passion was his minor in literature. The one good thing from this entire journey, he supposed, was that he was writing a lot. His writing mostly consisted of snippets, some tidbits of a novel, but he was still proud of it nonetheless. He never showed anyone his writing -- it felt too personal, too  _ intimate  _ \-- but he hoped to one day publish something on the internet, even if it was done so anonymously. 

When he reached Siam Paragon, it was bustling with life, but Johnny felt strangely at ease in the crowd. He was just another face that could disappear. The problem with historical landmarks, he mused, was that you were _expected _to enjoy them. You were _supposed _to be enchanted. For Johnny, it was the expectations of how you were supposed to feel in that moment that made those experiences feel stifling. In a mall, however, there were no such demands; you could be there to grab a coffee with your friends, or to do some shopping, or even to just waste some time. Finally feeling somewhat better, Johnny quickly found the Starbucks where he ordered an Iced Americano before just sitting down and writing for the next couple of hours.

***

By the time he yanked his reddened eyes away from the laptop screen, and blinked away their itchiness, the sun was almost rushing towards the most beautiful part of the day. The yellow hues were turning into golden, and a shade of warmth seemed to envelop and soften the harsh lines of the towering skyrisers. The golden hour was quickly cascading down the entire city, with it bringing a sense of calm in Johnny’s chest. There was just something so magical about this time of the day that never failed to make Johnny hurt with tenderness. 

He quickly grabbed his things and rushed out of the mall and into the sunlight. He closed his eyes and smiled, perhaps for the first time that day, focusing on the sunshine warmth slowly trickling down his face. It feels as if the sun rays are tickling my skin, he thought, and that made him smile even harder. If he could just contain this happiness beyond this moment, beyond this hour, and make it last forever: everything would be okay. 

But, as with all good things in life, this one didn’t seem to last either. Soon, the gold was chased away by the impending darkness; the hush of the evening was replaced by the vigor of the night, and the work commuters were replaced by young people seeking the best place to party. Johnny didn’t feel like going back to his stuffy hostel room where he would be forced to interact with other backpackers. Instead, he decided to head to a bar where he could grab a cheap drink, or two. 

As he was walking down the street, looking for the bar recommended to him by Google, he passed a lot of street vendors. 

“Hello, sir!” They called out after him, trying to steal his attention. 

“Sir! Hello hello! Sawadee krab!” They dangled their goods in front of him, trying to make him buy something. 

Johnny merely nodded politely, and kept up the brisk pace, zigzagging his way through the human-created maze. The bar itself was tucked in the corner of an alleyway, in between a massage place and a flower shop, and seemed quite empty at this hour of the day. Johnny sat down in the little veranda upfront, wishing to observe the streetlife in front of him, and ordered some fried rice and a whisky sour. When the rice arrived, warm and crunchy, he took him time chewing each bite, as he wanted to enjoy the flavor fully. He was okay, he thought to himself. He was more than okay. There was no pressure for him to do things; he could just take it one day at a time. 

Soon, he had finished the whisky sour, and called up the waiter in order to order a rum mule. The alcohol was already starting to settle warmly in his body, its buzz making him pleasantly dizzy, when he heard someone sitting down on a chair next to him. Johnny turned to face a young boy, probably in his early twenties, smiling devilishly at him. 

“If I knew I would be so lucky tonight, I’d have made more of an effort,” The stranger winked. “It’s not every day that I meet handsome strangers like you, seemingly lost in thought. You cut quite the 17th century romantic hero.”

Johnny silently appraised the boy in front of him. He was small, almost tiny, but held himself with such poise and confidence that he seemed almost larger than life. His body lines were languid, and he sat with the ease of a man who knew exactly who he was and what he wanted. Johnny was jealous. 

“Ah,” Johnny sighed. “I did always find Eugene Onegin and Mr. Darcy to hit a spot quite close to home.” He smiled, referring to two of his most beloved books. In fact, he was always fascinated by Russian literature, so he took quite a few classes on it at university, and Jane Austen was his mom’s favourite. 

“Oh! He also reads!” The stranger seemed absolutely delighted. His mouth stretched in a pearly smile, and his eyes, kohled with a glittery eyeliner, crinkled in a way that had Johnny staring. “I am Chittaphon,” The stranger continued breezily. “But, you can call me Ten, if that’s easier.”

“I am Johnny. Just Johnny.” Johnny tipped his head, smiling. The stranger beamed back at him. 

“Well, just Johnny, what brings you to Thailand? You don’t seem to be from around here.” Ten quirked his eyebrow curiously, and Johnny was once again distracted by how playful, but also lethal, Ten’s eyes were. 

“That’s actually a good question,” Johnny shrugged self-consciously. “I don’t even know myself, to be honest. I graduated from university six months ago, and then, I don’t know, I needed something to do. Staying back home, and finding a regular job like everyone else, seemed impossible.” Admitting this in front of Ten gave Johnny a newfound appreciation of how big of a loser he was, and he looked at Ten shyly, trying to gauge his reaction. Fortunately, Ten didn’t seem to be disappointed, nor was he giving Johnny a pitying look; he looked merely pensive.

“I have seen your type before; backpackers, travelling to ‘exotic’ countries in order to find yourselves,” Ten hummed thoughtfully. “Though, often, it’s less about finding, and more about escaping something,” He observed Johnny critically. “What makes you special, just Johnny? What makes you so different from every other backpacker here in Southeast Asia?” 

Johnny gulped. Ten’s piercing stare seemed to be undressing him -- unravelling him completely -- until there was nothing left for Johnny to show but his bare soul. 

“I don’t think there is anything special about me,” Johnny sighed, his shrug conveying a casual --  _ what can ya do? -- _ but the stiffness in his shoulders betraying his unease. “I am probably even worse than the rest of them, because there was nothing for me to escape. I had a good life back home.” 

“Yeah? How was your life back home?” Ten asked, and Johnny gave him a long look. Often, people asked questions but did not really care for the answer, merely waiting for their next opportunity to speak. But, Ten didn’t seem like that. He was lounging casually, and seemed to have all the time in the world to spare, just to hear Johnny’s story. 

“Well,” Johnny began. “I have a good bunch of friends, some of which I have known since elementary school. I just graduated from University of Chicago, with a degree in economics, so I was bound to find a good job at some point. I have a loving and supportive family,” He paused. “Well,” he amended, “I am not sure how supportive they are of me taking six months in order to roam the world, but. You get the gist. What about you?” 

“Oh, you want to know about my life?” Ten smiled. “Well, my family is rich, so I have never been too worried about money. I never enrolled in university, it just wasn’t for me, but post-high school I was accepted into this prestigious two-year long art academy in London. Now, I work as a full-time dance instructor and do some occasional art commissions on the side. Oh, and I work part time in this drag bar. Actually, I just do a lot of odd small jobs,” Ten shrugged easily. 

To Johnny, it was refreshing how frank and unapologetic Ten was. He was openly honest and proud of his accomplishments. There was no sense of false modesty, but no sense of humble-bragging either. He merely stated things as they were.

“My parents would kill me if I did art. They always talk about how they escaped Korea --  _ hell Joseon _ , they call it -- in order for me to have a better life. My dad actually did pretty well; he has his own local business that he wants me to take over one day.” 

Johnny didn’t know what it was, but talking about his parents returned the stifling feeling. He had forgotten about it for a short while, as he was talking to Ten, but now it was back in full force. He reached for his drink, only to find it empty. Ten was just looking at him. When he saw Johnny fidgeting over his empty drink, he loudly slurped the last remnants of his own (he was drinking a fruity cocktail with a straw) and quickly called over the waiter. 

“Drinks! Don’t they go so fast,” Ten grinned mischievously. “I am getting a Long Island, want one as well?”

“Sure, sounds good,” Johnny nodded. Frankly, Johnny  _ hated  _ Long Islands ever since that one frat party that he does not remember, but seeing Ten smile prettily at the waiter --  _ two Long Islands please!  _ \-- was somehow worth it. 

The waiter was back in a jiffy, and they continued their conversation whilst slowly nursing their drinks. Ten asked Johnny about all the countries he had visited in the past six months (Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, and now Thailand). Johnny asked Ten about when he started dancing (“I have been dancing for as long as I know about myself!”) and about his favourite dance styles (contemporary, but he also likes street dancing). They talked about their school days (“I was always the most popular,” Ten bragged, and Johnny believed him). They talked about books, with Ten blushing as he admitted that he loved reading literotica, and Johnny talking about his favourite literature classes. That led to Ten asking Johnny about  _ The David and Alfred Smart Museum of Art _ , located on the campus of the University of Chicago, and to him slapping Johnny in mock outrage after Johnny admitted that he had only been there once, during his freshman year. Finally, Ten asked Johnny whether these past six months were what he imagined them to be. 

Johnny paused to think. It had been so long since he first went on the road that he had almost forgotten his initial expectations. Was he looking for adventure? Endless nights spent partying? Long days spent meditating by the beach? He craved to live like a nomad -- freer than the wind itself -- with nothing holding him back. He remembers being excited about being completely on his own; being able to wake up in the morning and structure his day however he wanted to, with no obligations or expectations guiding the way. He thought it would be liberating. 

“I didn’t expect it to be so lonely,” Johnny realises. “The past six months have consisted of brief fleeting connections; sometimes lasting a day or two -- if I am lucky maybe an entire week -- before we are onto the next stop in our separate journey. Backpacking seems to be a place of constant transit; the hostel can never be your home, and the people you meet can never be more than temporary companions on the road. Even if you have this amazing connection, by the next day you are off to Kuala Lumpur and they are off to Melaka, and, if you do decide to exchange contacts, you know that you will never actually text each other after the trip.” 

Johnny suddenly felt a pang of yearning in his chest. 

Just how many faces had he seen over the past six months? Just how many faces had he forgotten? The names were already becoming blurred in his head; he referred to the people he met as “the guy in Bali who could juggle torches” or “the nice hostel lady in Hanoi who treated me to lunch”. 

“There was this couple, they were called Chanyeol and Baekhyun, and I stayed with them longer than I did with anyone else. We travelled together across Vietnam for maybe three weeks -- or was it four? -- I am forgetting now. Anyways, I guess they were the only real friends I made on the road,” Johnny laughed fondly, remembering all the pranks Baekhyun would playfully pull on him and Chanyeol, even though both of them were twice his size. 

He reminisced about Chanyeol’s dopey smile and his large floppy ears, and the way he never seemed to get frustrated; including that time they got scammed out of most of their money. “Chanyeol and Baekhyun were deeply in love, but they never made me feel like a third-wheel. My time with them probably contains all of my fondest memories from the past few months.” 

While Johnny was talking, Ten had unconsciously slid closer, propping both his hands on the table between them. His head was almost laying down horizontally on his knuckles; peering at Johnny through his lashes. 

“What about you? Did you fall in love on the road?” He asked Johnny. 

Johnny’s lips stretched into a bashful grin, “What do you think?”. 

“No,” Ten answered immediately. 

Johnny probably looked quite affronted at his certainty, so Ten gave him a placating smile. 

“If you had found someone, you would be with them right? You wouldn’t be here, in Bangkok, alone in a bar.” 

“You make it sound even more pathetic than it is,” Johnny’s words held no real grudge beneath them. Ten didn’t seem to be judging, so Johnny didn’t feel the need to pretend that he was better than he was. Besides, if Johnny was sitting alone in a bar, Ten was also chatting up random strangers sitting alone in bars, so. Which made him wonder: why did Ten approach him? He was undeniably pretty and charming. In most cases, that was a sure antidote against spending your nights alone, hunting for random faces to keep you companionship. 

“Have you found someone? I mean, are  _ you _ in love? Or have been, I don’t know.” He asked curiously, fumbling over his words. What he really wanted to ask was: can I hope to spend the night together with you?

“I am just floating,” Ten made a floating motion with his dainty hand, “no special someone in my life yet. I am not trying to rush it though. I am sure someone will come up eventually.” Johnny was unable to decipher the look in Ten’s eyes. “As for whether I have been in love with someone before… yes, I have. Once. Why, haven’t you?” 

Johnny paused to think. His instinctual answer would have been “yes”. After all, he dated his college sweetheart, Jessica, for over four years. If he stayed that long in that relationship, he must have been in love, right? Except, why could he never relate to how all the characters in his favourite romance books felt and talked about love? He assumed that books are always an unrealistic representation of love. However, he couldn’t get out of his head what Jessica had told him the night she broke up with him. Her eyes were red, and Johnny was sure she had been crying before coming to see him, but she uttered that sentence with an almost frightening sense of calmness. He did not want to think about that night though. The possibility was too scary, too impossible, too frightening. He refused to believe that he had lived his whole life in a lie. 

“I am not sure,” He answered, almost honestly. “Thinking back on my relationships, it seems as if I was a passive observer, rather than an active participant. I did really care about all of my girlfriends though.” 

Ten nodded as if whatever gibberish was coming out of Johnny’s mouth made complete sense. 

They spent the rest of the night talking: about anything and everything that came to mind. Johnny couldn’t stop laughing after Ten had shown him a video from when he was a kid. In the video, Ten was dancing a “dance for girls” and no matter how Johnny tried to explain the video afterwards, he could never quite capture the sheer hilarity of it. Ten seemed both pleased and embarrassed by Johnny’s incessant laughing, and he said something along the lines of:  _ even then I knew I was destined to be a Queen _ . Johnny wondered how someone can know what they are destined for at such a young age, when he himself had not an inkling of what his destiny was, even now. They both kept drinking and drinking until Johnny started slurring his words and Ten kept giggling for no reason at all. 

“C’mon, leggo,” Ten slurred, “the bar is closing soon.” 

He stood up uncertainly, his knees wobbly, and almost toppled over Johnny. Johnny laughed and grabbed Ten beneath his armpits. Suddenly, Ten was so close to him -- almost too close. Johnny could feel Ten’s muscled torso beneath his hands. He could see the rapidly increasing rise and fall of Ten’s chest.

“You smell sweet,” He murmured, dazed. 

“Mm, it’s probably my body lotion. It’s honey scented.” 

Johnny buried his nose in Ten’s shirt, trying to bury himself in Ten’s sweetness. Ten giggled, feeling tickled by Johnny’s touch, and playfully swatted him away. 

“No, you need to touch it,” He purred, eyes gleaming dangerously. 

Johnny’s biggest mistake in that moment was probably looking up. He felt immediately enthralled and captivated by Ten’s gaze. He could feel the wild thrumming of his blood, rushing over to his head. He felt dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol.  _ I want to touch him _ , he realised.  _ God, can I?  _

As soon as he discovered that,  _ yes _ , there was nothing more he wanted in that moment than to touch Ten, he started to feel as if he was going to suffocate. His heart was thumping quickly, in a frenzied mix of arousal and panic. 

He wanted to let go. 

_ No, he did not want to let go.  _

He should let go. 

_ He can’t let go.  _

Ten moved away, his mouth stretched in a barely contained yawn. 

“I am tired, let’s go and get you a taxi,” He started gathering his things. “I live nearby, so I can just walk,” He already started walking away. 

Johnny paused and took a long breath, trying to calm down. He still felt unstable, almost unrooted. It seemed as if in those few quick moments he had weathered a whole storm. He stood up and silently followed Ten to the road in front of the bar. Ten turned around when he felt Johnny’s presence behind him. He had already called a taxi and was asking Johnny for his hostel address. Johnny said that he could just tell the taxi to go to Udom Suk, because he wanted to get some snacks from the supermarket anyways. Ten nodded and rattled away something in quick Thai. 

“The driver said he would be here in a minute. In Bangkok terms, that means at least seven minutes before he arrives,” He rolled his eyes. 

“Thanks for calling the taxi for me,” Johnny paused. Faltered. “And, um. Thank you. For tonight. I had a good time.” 

Ten stared at him silently. Johnny felt uncomfortable: did he say too much? His mom always said that he was too emotional and too dramatic. She said his intensity made people feel pressured. Suddenly, however, Ten brightened up and the seriousness of his stare was replaced by the cheerfulness of his smile. 

“Aw, big boy! Don’t worry. I can assure you, the pleasure is all mine,” He twinkled. “After all, I never miss the opportunity to talk to a handsome brooding stranger like yourself,” He winked, making Johnny blush. 

They waited for the taxi in a silence that was part companionable part tense. Ten was right: it took the taxi almost fifteen minutes to arrive (“I am always right,” Ten joked). They bid their goodbyes for the last time, and Johnny slumped on the backseat of the taxi, sleepily watching the streets whoosh by him. They were still buzzing with life and he wondered whether Bangkok was ever truly asleep. 

  
  


It was only after he reached the hostel when he realised that he never took Ten’s phone number.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story so far! Please comment how this story made you feel, as well as what you liked and disliked about it. Your comments make me 1. want to keep writing and 2. help me improve my writing! I would greatly appreciate them <3 Also, leave kudos if you enjoyed it! Love all of you. 
> 
> (Update: Y'all I haven't updated this fic in ages, and the reason is this: when I was writing this fic I was hella depressed, and now I am not. So, whenever I return to writing it, I get reminded of how I felt then. That's why it has been a bit rough finishing chapter 2 and starting chapter 3. But, I can promise you, this fic WILL get finished. I will not leave it like this. What I cannot promise you is when that will happen. Please be patient! Hopefully, by the end of this summer (2020) I will be done with the story. Thanks for understanding, love y'all <3)
> 
> also, please hmu! i love to talk  
curiouscat:  
https://curiouscat.me/Tamsi  
twitter:  
https://twitter.com/TamaraXxx7


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